


Behind the Sea

by aliceecrivain



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst, Dancing, First Meetings, Grinding, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what to tag this rip, Introspection, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 09:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14691447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceecrivain/pseuds/aliceecrivain
Summary: One night, in the midst of an ongoing, somewhere-between-quarter-and-mid-life crisis, Charles breaks under the pressure and does something completely unlike himself. As one might it expect, it doesn't exactly go off without a hitch. Fortunately for him he finds unexpected solace in an enigmatic but seemingly-sympathetic stranger who helps him to see that things might not be quite as hopeless as they appear.





	Behind the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit right off the bat that I wrote this for myself more than for any other reason. It was one of those things that, once I thought of it, I just had to drop everything and write it, no matter how it turned out. It was a pretty cathartic process, so I'm glad that I did. I'm posting it because it's finished, but also because I hope that maybe someone else out there will get something similar out of reading it.
> 
> Small warning for a really brief mention of contemplation of suicide. It's very quick and it doesn't lead to anything, but it's there.
> 
> Title ripped from an old p!atd song that doesn't have much to do with this story. I just liked the sound of it.

Charles couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out after 9 PM, let alone on a school night unless he’d forgotten to get something at the grocery store and needed it so desperately that he didn’t have any choice other than to brave the world after dark.

That was in no small part because Charles was an extremely busy man. He was well-known around campus for being the professor who took on three too many lectures while also attempting to balance his role as committee chair for the Department of Biological Sciences and his own research. That along with all the other duties pressed upon him simply from being faculty at a university left him with little time to spare, and for the most part it was self-inflicted so he couldn’t complain. It was also because Charles had crossed over into his thirties over a year ago and with each passing day he could sense the shadow of his forties growing inexorably closer.

Not that he’d been one for going out when he was younger either. Back then he hadn’t had classes to teach, but he’d had them to attend. When he wasn’t in class he was in lab, and when he wasn’t in lab he was working on his dissertation. He’d stepped right from one booth into the next in terms of roles within academia. No, there hadn’t been time then either.

It was understandable, then, that all this was a bit much for him.

Charles wasn’t even sure what had pushed him over the edge directly into such a spontaneous, uncharacteristic decision. More than likely it was a build-up of many things that he had no real urge to think about ever, let alone now. The reality of it was, one second he was at his desk at home in his apartment, slowly marking up term papers, the words on the pages slurring together more with each passing hour and each eerily similar thesis statement, and the next he was shoving back from his desk, grabbing his wallet, and walking out the door into the chill of the autumn night.

He set off down the street without really knowing where he was going, no plan, no directions, nothing. All he knew was that he had to get out of his office before he suffocated. The fresh air helped even if he was walking aimlessly at first. It didn’t take him long to find some sort of club. That was to be expected, living nearby a college campus. He could hear the music from outside and could see vague flashes of light and he was walking over before he could think it through.

The bouncer seemed to suspect him of being underage at first because of how nervous he was most likely acting and how it took him several moments to realize he need to present his I.D., at least until he shined his flashlight in Charles’s face and hardly glanced at the proffered piece of plastic before waving him inside in a mildly exasperated manner. Charles hurried to get out of the way, picking his way into the building.

Once he was inside he was immediately surrounded by the heat of too many bodies in too small a space, the sickly sweet scent of innumerable cocktails, and music at a high enough decibel level that he felt certain everyone in the place would go home with permanent hearing damage if they stayed longer than ten minutes. Lights flashed as well, multi-colored and blinding, spinning sickeningly around the room like spotlights following a twirling ballerina around a stage.

Immediately it was overwhelming. Regret and panic hit Charles hard and he fled immediately for the closest wall he could find. Even just inside that required pushing his way through a crowd of people, all of whom ignored his incessant apologies, but it was worth it to find a solid surface to lean up against. He’d ended up toward the end of the bar where, fortunately, there were less people than in the rest of the space.

Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. _What the hell am I doing?_

Rather than think about it too much quite yet Charles tried to calm himself down a little and survey the situation from his improved vantage point. Once outside the mass of people in the middle of the space it was difficult to recognize one body from another. It looked as though they were moving as one, a writhing, curling entity made up of more bare skin than Charles had seen in a long time and a million different colors of fabric and so much light reflecting off the glasses being clutched recklessly close to so much erratic movement throughout the crowd. For a few long moments Charles was entranced, simply taking it in.

Looking closer he could see faces, giddy to be young and anonymous and part of the spectacle, eager to dance and be swept away by the energy and noise of this place, to forget that it was a Thursday night and just outside they too probably had work waiting for them. Or maybe Charles was projecting, he couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t as if he knew these people or what they were thinking, but here all of them were at this place on a weeknight, looking for something.

And Charles was too, looking for something, though he didn’t know what. He felt out of place, separated from the whole scene, pressed up against the wall. His mind was spinning, wondering how many of these people were students, worrying about the work he’d left or about being recognized, god forbid, spinning tight little spirals around anything but what exactly had brought him here.

A woman bumped into him and almost fell, her eyes glazed over from alcohol, her drink emptying onto the floor. Charles caught at her arm without thinking, holding her up. He steadied her and she regained her balance—or what was left of it—after a few seconds, turning to flash a brilliant smile at him.

“Thanks!” she shouted, overly grateful for such a small gesture. She was very beautiful in the low light of the club, and far too young for him. Charles felt like a lecherous old man for looking even the few seconds he had. Still, his heart did something ridiculous in his chest, probably because he couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that, and he knew it was manufactured but it didn’t really matter.

The woman was off a few seconds later, pressing her way back into the crowd, leaving Charles where he was, feeling foolish. _Ah, I see_ , he thought. _That’s what this is, is it_?

It was, but there was more. Still, it was somehow more reassuring to sink into the familiar loneliness that had been creeping around in his periphery for years, feeling pathetic for pulling such a stupid stunt over something so banal, than look deeper into it.

The song switched over from something vague and exciting to something much more pointedly sexual and the movement of the crowd shifted with it, explicit enough to have Charles looking away, off toward the bar, thoroughly scandalized by his voyeuristic position. He sighed, looking down at his shoes. He should go home, back out of this before he could do something even more out of hand, he knew. What else was there for him to do? Dance? Join in? Unlikely. Drink?

Looking over at the bar, he thought that that wasn’t _such_ a terrible idea, but he also knew that he could get smashed at home for much cheaper without going deaf and that, if he was going to do that, he should really wait until the designated hours of between 1-3 A.M. on Saturday. He still had class tomorrow after all.

 _I should leave_ , he thought, not leaving, not even pretending to leave.

“Long day at the office?”

In another situation Charles might have jumped, but as it was he barely heard the person speak over the music and the noise of the crowd he’d been overtly avoiding eye contact with. Instead, he just looked up, confused. He thought maybe the words were directed at someone else, but no. It was a man this time, standing in front of him, looking right at him, asking him a question.

“What?” Charles shouted back.

The man leaned in, close enough to make Charles back himself instinctively against the wall, close enough that Charles could feel how warm his breath was against his neck. Charles froze, shocked by the sudden proximity. “I said,” the man repeated, directly into his ear this time, “long day at the office?”

Luckily the man leaned back away from him somewhat afterward, though he didn’t remove his hand from next to Charles’s head where he’d set it in the first place, and he was still leaning into Charles’s space. Charles took the chance to get a better look at him while he tried to riddle out what he was talking about.

He was older than the woman from before Charles thought, but about as unfairly beautiful, if not more so. It was a different kind of beauty, something one saw from stars of action movies or in magazines featuring motorcycles and other shiny metal indicators of manliness. There was a roughness to him, a sharpness to the line of his jaw and a broadness to his shoulders that hinted at something dangerous. He towered over Charles, slumped down against the wall as he was, and his gaze was incredibly direct, his eyes strangely light amidst the gaudy neon and clinging darkness of the space.

Charles swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up. _Why the hell is he talking to me_? he wondered. “I don’t know what you mean,” Charles said lamely. He wondered if the man was inebriated and looking for someone else, although his gaze seemed clear.

The man’s eyebrows rose. “You look like you just got out of work,” he informed Charles, leaning in again to speak. “You still have a tie on.”

Ah. He was right, Charles noticed, embarrassment rising in his chest. He hadn’t bothered to change earlier and then he’d just run out. He probably did look like he’d managed to stumble in here on accident on his way home from the office. Charles mentally berated himself, but it did seem like something that would happen to him.

He choked out a laugh, keeping his face as smooth as he could. He was at least experienced in dealing with all manner of people and putting on a good face in the meantime. No reason he couldn’t do that here too. “I guess semi-formal business attire isn’t what’s hip these days, huh? I must have missed the memo.”

The man had enough good grace to crack a smile at the attempt toward humor. “Not really, no,” he admitted. His teeth were very white, Charles noticed, and he somehow looked more dangerous when he was smiling. “But I don’t think you’re beyond help. Let’s see.”

He pushed away from the wall then and Charles wondered if he’d disappear off into the crowd as quickly as the woman, but he stayed where he was, moving so he was in front of Charles and, well, looking him over. Charles shifted uncomfortably under the attention, wondering what the hell actually was going on now, painfully aware of his shapeless slacks and tacky tie—one of the many he owned as part of the upkeep of his eccentric-professor image.

The man didn’t comment but after a few endless moments he moved again. Charles made some embarrassing, startled sound at the hands suddenly on his hips, pulling his shirt out from his pants. Rather than resist, however, all he did was freeze where he was, feeling heat rush over him. He truly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him beyond the occasional, sterile, workplace-sanctioned pat on the shoulder or hand on his arm. The pressure was novel and the man didn’t seem to care about extra, unnecessary brushes of fingers against Charles’s skin.

He went for the buttons of the shirt next, undoing a few, opening it further than Charles would have dared. Afterwards he reached for his tie, loosening it in a few dexterous movements, letting it hang down closer to his waist. Finally there was a careless hand running through his hair, mussing it up. Charles had to remind himself to breathe.

The man pulled back, sizing Charles up again with a thoughtful expression. “It’ll do,” he finally announced and Charles supposed he was glad to have earned the approval.

“Thanks?” he choked out, still somewhat in shock at being handled so casually by this stranger. Stupid-looking or not he was longing to at least re-button his shirt—he really didn’t need to look like he was trying too hard on top of everything else—but he forced himself to leave it for the time being.

Again, Charles expected the man to turn and go. Perhaps Charles’s lack of fashion know-how had been bothering him the way dirty dishes sometimes bothered Charles and now that he’d remedied the issue he would go back to wherever he’d come from, breaking off from this intersection of lives that was never meant to happen in the first place, good-deed accomplished. But he didn’t. He stayed there, looking at Charles, standing in his space, being obnoxiously tall and good-looking.

Charles couldn’t stand how little sense it made and decided to get to the bottom of it. “Were you looking for someone?” he asked. Either the DJ had turned the volume of the music down slightly or his ears were adjusting since he no longer felt like he was shouting across a football field. He wouldn’t know how to help if that were the case, but it made more sense than the man actually sticking around to talk to Charles of all people.

“Not really,” the man said, face frustratingly unreadable.

Well, that didn’t solve anything. Charles fought back a frown. “Did you…need something then?” he asked, scraping for clues and coming up empty.

The smile was back, almost predatory. It made Charles want to take a step closer to him nonsensically. “Maybe. I thought maybe you were waiting for someone to come and buy you a drink, standing all alone over here by the bar.”

Charles almost laughed at the suggestion. He thought he’d be waiting a very long time indeed if that had been his plan. And yet—

And yet here this man was, doing just that, for whatever strange reason. Charles had a flash of clarity wherein he realized that this could very well be pity. Pity for the poor sap standing alone up against the wall still in his collar and loafers, ten years too old to be hanging around in a place like this. The idea grated on Charles, partially because the basis for it was true and because he couldn’t riddle out another feasible explanation for this man to be wasting his time talking to him.

It made anger rise up in Charles, pride despite everything because maybe he did look pathetic but he didn’t need anyone’s pity, not even this man’s. It made him want to flip him off and escape into the crowd himself. He almost did, was very close to it, but it occurred to him that maybe this was the best he could get. He _was_ desperate, he _was_ standing alone in a club, he _was_ the perfect counterpart to that tired equation.

Charles swallowed the shame at the realization and chased it quickly with a _to hell with it_. Even if it was pity, he could at least get a free drink out of it. He could waste some more of this bastard’s time, maybe make it so he’d think twice before taking one for the team at the expense of some other unsuspecting person. (And, a more shallow side of his mind noted, it meant he’d get to look at him a little bit longer.)

“I wasn’t,” Charles corrected, adding a bit of steel to his voice so maybe the man wouldn’t think he was someone who could be stepped all over, pathetic or not, “but I won’t say no if you’re paying.”

The man’s expression twitched slightly and Charles took it as a small victory, but ultimately all he did was straighten up and gesture toward the bar.

Charles pushed himself up off the wall and onto unsteady feet, moving over to the bar in front of the man whose eyes he could still feel on his back like direct sunlight on a mid-summer afternoon, almost burning. While he was at least out of direct sight Charles redid one of his buttons surreptitiously, straightened out his tie wishing he hadn’t just stood back and let himself be rearranged to the man’s liking so easily.

There was enough help behind the bar that Charles had someone ask him if he wanted something almost as soon as he stepped up. Charles was thinking whiskey as a good standard order, too boring to draw any sort of teasing something more extravagant might, but the man didn’t bother letting him have a say, ordering a couple of what sounded like shots without any fanfare. The bartender was nodding and whisking away before Charles could stop her.

He turned and shot the man an irritated look. “The point of buying someone a drink is usually to let them get what _they_ want,” he pointed out.

The man shrugged, unaffected by Charles’s tone. “It’s my money. Besides, no offense, but I sort of doubt someone who showed up looking how you did would know what to order at a place like this.”

Charles pressed his teeth together, taking the words more personally than he normally would have. The man probably had a point but it wasn’t like this was his first time at a bar. He wasn’t some co-ed sneaking in with a fake I.D. to get drunk on martinis. He was regretting not just walking away more and more each second. Still, it almost made him more determined to knock this guy down a rung. This wasn’t exactly how you were supposed to treat a pity pick-up.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Charles asked, leaning on the sticky wood of the counter, blinking over at the man as if he knew anything about it. Still, it was almost thrilling to throw on this guise of false confidence.

It seemed to throw the man off at least. His brow furrowed and Charles’s actual confidence rose somewhat in response. “What?”

“I guess I don’t know much about it,” Charles continued, “but I don’t think insulting someone is a very good strategy.”

The man blinked at him, more calculating than before. Charles wondered if he’d throw in the towel now, decide Charles wasn’t worth the trouble. He didn’t know whether he wanted him to or not.

The man stood his ground and Charles felt a bit of grudging respect toward him for it, as well as a slight bit of relief. “I was only kidding,” the man claimed, leaning up against the bar himself, “but I suppose you’re right. What would you suggest, in that case?”

“You could ask me my name,” Charles said before he could think it through. It sounded a little childish out in the open, but he didn’t think he was wrong.

“What’s your name?” the man asked obligingly.

Charles felt strange suddenly being the one in control of the conversation but pushed past it. “Charles. You?”

“Erik.” Charles nodded; it suited him.

Charles put his hand out automatically and immediately regretted it, but he thought retreating would be worse so he held firm. Soon enough there was a warm, strong hand in his, squeezing around his fingers with a good grip and Erik was looking at him like he didn’t know quite what to make of him anymore. Charles thought he didn’t mind it that much. It was at least better than the fake sultry looks from earlier.

The shots arrived almost immediately after, the service surprisingly quick. Two each, Charles noted, as Erik dug around for his wallet. Charles almost stopped him, feeling a latent stab of guilt for using him, but decided to let it be. If they ordered anything else—not that he was planning to—he would chip in his fair share.

Charles reached out to take hold of one of the small glasses, feeling the cool moisture on his fingers, spinning it slowly around. It was a much brighter shade of drink than he normally went for, mostly because he knew how much alcohol was usually lurking beneath those pretty colors. Still, if there was one thing he hadn’t managed to miss the bandwagon on it was drinking, for better or worse, so he wasn’t as nervous as he could have been.

“Cheers,” Charles said, maybe to Erik but mostly to himself before he knocked it back. It burned going down more than he’d expected, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It made him feel a bit more alive more than anything else. Charles set the glass down and eyed the second one warily, not so sure about it.

He’d deal with it later, he thought, looking back toward Erik who was staring at him again, something dark in his eyes that Charles didn’t know what to make of. Already things looked a little fuzzier around the edges. Not overly so, but it had certainly been strong.

Charles forced himself to focus, not willing to be outdone by a single shot. “Well?” he asked, glancing down pointedly at Erik’s own untouched glasses.

Again, Erik took the suggestion and went with it, downing his first shot without flinching. Charles watched the muscles of his neck work as he swallowed, all the way down to his chest, more of which was visible than Charles thought was entirely necessary considering the V-neck that was clinging indecently to the man’s torso. _It’s October,_ Charles thought irritably. _What the hell is he doing waltzing around in that?_

Not suffocating maybe. Charles certainly was feeling much too warm for the crowded space. He moved to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, occupying himself, not sure what exactly came next.

“Do you live nearby?” Erik asked.

Charles shot him a look. “Why?”

“Still trying to riddle out how it is you ended up here looking the way you do.”

Charles rolled his eyes openly, not bothering to pretend to be polite. “You could at least find something else to make fun of me for. That’s getting a little stale.” He knew he was being pricklier than was entirely necessary, but he thought it was better to be on his guard than off of it. He worried what would happen if he did start to let himself slip. He didn’t trust himself around Erik at all.

Still, he thought maybe he shouldn’t be _such_ a pain in the ass. “I wasn’t exactly planning on coming here. I forgot to change earlier after work is all.”

“In that case, I assume you’re not a student?” Erik prompted.

Charles did laugh at that. “No, I’m not.” Something even more horrifying occurred to him then. He thought Erik looked too old, but he thought he ought to make very sure he was right in his thinking. “You aren’t either, are you?”

“I’m not,” Erik assured him, “but it’s good to check with places like these, so close to the university.”

Charles agreed, although he did wonder in that case what exactly Erik was doing here. There were other bars in the city nearby that Charles probably should have gone to if he’d been thinking. “What brings you here?” Charles asked, toying around with the second glass, hardly paying attention to the rest of the club at all anymore.

Erik’s eyes shifted away from him somewhat. “Nothing in particular. Didn’t feel like driving very far tonight.”

Charles thought that made sense, seeing how it was a Thursday. Still, now the cogs in his brain were twisting and he wondered, if Erik wasn’t a student, what _was_ he doing out on a weeknight? After a few seconds he decided to not think about it. He had his own reasons, but he wouldn’t know where to start if Erik asked about them and he thought maybe Erik was the same.

Charles wondered what exactly to say to this man. He didn’t know how this sort of thing was supposed to go, seeing how this was his first try at it and it was staged anyway. _Maybe I’ll bore him into leaving_ , Charles thought, digging into himself somewhat in the meantime.

His eyes drifted back toward the dance floor and the moving bodies, blurring even more with the alcohol singing in his blood. He wondered again how exactly he’d gotten here and how long he thought he could keep this up.

“Did you want to dance?” Erik asked, startling him back into reality.

Charles blinked owlishly at him, running the idea through his mind and immediately balking at the thought. He couldn’t think of many things more embarrassing than trying to dance in front of so many people, let alone trying to dance in front of Erik. The concept alone would have given him heart palpitations if the alcohol wasn’t dulling his anxiety somewhat.

“Oh, no,” he said, unable to be anything but honest now. “I’m not much for dancing.” He was aware he sounded like the heroine of an 80’s teen flick who, halfway through the film, would have her glasses removed and be revealed to be some sort of hidden model-type, who just needed to loosen up and have fun for once, but he couldn’t help it.

Erik raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s not really about being good at it. You can’t move out there anyway, not really. The crowd does most of the work for you.”

Charles didn’t really think being pressed in amongst a bunch of strangers like a sardine in a tin can sounded very good either. “I don’t know.”

Erik was starting to look at him the way people used to look at him on the rare occasion he was invited out, back early on in his college career before people stopped bothering, and he pointed out that he had quite a bit of homework to do, not tonight, sorry about that. (Who went out on a Tuesday anyway?) Charles bore it. This he was used to.

“I think you should try it,” Erik said, shockingly stubborn, picking up his second shot and drinking it one smooth swallow. “If you didn’t want to, you would have had better luck just going to a bar. That’s sort of the point of places like this.”

Charles looked down into the depths of his second shot. Maybe Erik had a point. Most of him was still rallying against the idea, but he thought maybe he shouldn’t care about that. He wasn’t his normal self right now anyway. He wasn’t Dr. Xavier, the washed-up professor who would rather spend Saturday night doing electrophoresis than going out, who’d let his youth drip by him without doing anything to stop it.

Right now he was Charles who had men he didn’t know buy him drinks at a bar and who didn’t laugh off insults for the sake of being polite. That Charles would want to dance and wouldn’t give a damn who was watching.

Charles steeled himself, clinging to the idea of his new persona, and downed his second shot, setting the glass down too hard on the counter. When he looked up Erik was looking at him expectantly. “Alright,” he said before he could think about it too much. “I want to try.”

The answer seemed to please Erik who pushed up off the counter, standing back up to his full height and holding out his hand. Charles took it after a few hesitant seconds and suddenly he was being tugged along, clinging onto Erik for dear life as he yanked Charles into the mass of people in front of them. Erik didn’t seem to care who he was pushing through, and it didn’t matter since people moved aside for him easily enough. Charles was glad for his height and the bodily shield he was providing as well as the steadying hold on his hand which Charles didn’t really want to let go of anytime soon.

Erik brought them much closer to the center of the room than Charles would have dared go, thoroughly incorporated within the crowd which was jostling around them. The music was somehow even louder out there, beating in Charles’s chest, riding a line between painful and exhilarating. Erik stopped suddenly and let go of him which was a shame, but he did turn back toward Charles with something like an expectant look on his face.

Now that he was here, Charles really didn’t know what to do. The alcohol wasn’t much help after all, not enough to completely dull his nerves. He felt ridiculous standing still in the middle of everyone, even if no one seemed to care what he was doing, and claustrophobic with sweaty bodies around him on all sides, knocking into him now and again, pressed too close. Before he could bolt or do something equally idiotic, there were hands on his shoulders, moving him awkwardly to the music.

Charles looked up at Erik who looked bemused. (At least he wasn’t embarrassed or mocking, Charles thought.) “Just move to the music,” he shouted, his voice almost completely lost in the sound. “Come on, you said you wanted to try.”

Erik let go of his shoulders and started moving himself which helped, admittedly. However, Erik’s body looked like it was meant to move like this. He was all long, lean lines and smooth, hard muscle, subtle but clearly present in his bare arms. When he danced it was effortless, Charles thought. It was true he wasn’t doing all that much, but he didn’t need to. Just the slight rocking of his hips was enough to make it difficult for Charles to look away.

Erik looked back for a few long moments but eventually seemed to give up on Charles who was still stiff as a statue. Instead he closed his eyes and dropped his head back, baring his neck to the ceiling. Charles followed the long line of it with his eyes hungrily. With the heat of the room there was a light sheen of sweat on his skin that was making it shine.

Erik looked completely comfortable, Charles thought, not caring who was looking at him, just moving. He didn’t know if he could quite do that, but since he was no longer being watched that closely, he thought he would try. Just swaying felt silly at first, but there were so many people pressing in around him doing the same thing that he got over it quickly enough.

Charles decided he wanted to close his eyes too, and that helped. He stopped listening to the music and felt it instead, under his feet, all around him, seeping under his skin, into his bones. It moved within him like a second heartbeat and he let it take control of him. It was much easier after that. It wasn’t dancing; he was just letting the vibrations jolt him as they would.

When he reopened his eyes he was part of the crowd, another person in this club like any other, separate from the outside world, contained in this bubble of sound and feeling and movement. Nothing else mattered right now, not the papers he was supposed to be grading or who he was or why he was there. Charles let go, giving over to his body. Between the alcohol and the noise it was easy to drown out any lingering thoughts.

It was fantastic.

Charles felt—free and reckless and young and not like he had to be anything in particular. He was above it all right now, in this moment, under the swirling lights, one of so many. He didn’t feel trapped within himself as he so often did, caged within his own body and his own age and his own failings as an adult. He could just be, no names or strings attached.

No one was even watching him, no one paying attention to him in the least which was good because he was sure he was smiling maniacally at the moment, unable to help himself. He put his arms up, reached up above the crowd, stretching toward the ceiling and moved, one part of a whole, simple as anything.

Charles didn’t know how long he was adrift in the feeling but eventually he noticed that he _was_ being watched, and remembered that he wasn’t alone. He thought that might break the illusion he was currently in, but it didn’t, not in the least. Erik was definitely watching him, both of them moving, separate but achingly aware of one another.

But Charles didn’t care. He wanted to be watched. He wanted to be looked at. He didn’t care that he hardly knew Erik and still wondered about his motives. All he cared about was that Erik was devastatingly attractive with his crooked smile and his winter-sky eyes and his casual touching and he was looking at Charles instead of anyone else around him.

Erik came closer when he caught him looking back, purposeful movement within the mindlessly intimate proximity of the group, stepping up to Charles with only a breath between them. Charles decided he was going to be brave and reached out to touch Erik for the first time that night, running his hands down the smooth planes of his chest, coming to rest on his ridiculously narrow waist. Charles could feel the warmth of his body through the thin, soft material of his shirt, could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed, solid and alive under Charles’s hands, making his heart skip a beat.

There was clear intent in Erik’s eyes when he met them again, something hot like liquid metal, searingly bright, and all at once Erik tugged him closer, closing the last small gap between them. Charles couldn’t bite back his sharp intake of breath in response. Erik’s body was hot and firm against his and Charles could very clearly feel the movement of his hips up against his own.

This wasn’t exactly a gay club, but the people around them remained as apathetic as they had been when they’d been dancing separately so Charles let go of that particular anxiety quickly enough. He was distracted as it was by the constant friction between the two of them. Charles had never done anything like this before, could have never imagined it, but his body was quick to respond.

 _God, it’s been so long_ , he thought, _so long_. Even if the particulars were new, he was aching for this, had been for what felt like an eternity, for contact, another body against his. Charles rubbed up against Erik helplessly, still urged on by the music but also driven by the need to feel more of him. Erik’s pants were tight, Charles noticed, and they weren’t hiding anything. The thought made Charles shudder, his mind spinning wildly, too eager to dwell on the disbelief that this was happening at all.

Erik responded well to Charles’s desperation, mostly by running his hands down his back, purposeful pressure along his skin, all the way down to squeeze at his ass, not particularly interested in being subtle. Charles jerked at the feeling, surprised but not displeased. He looked up at Erik and found him still looking right back. He gave Charles a sleazy grin for his trouble, looking more proud of himself than anything else and not moving his hands at all.

Charles thought maybe he should be trying to put up more of a front instead of giving himself over to this so easily. He’d never really thought of himself as someone who’d let themself be groped in public by a stranger—handsome or otherwise—but he also couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mind was a little blurry around the edges and inundated with heat. Arousal was swelling steadily within him and Erik wasn’t much better off as far as he could feel. So rather than pull back, Charles pushed forward, spreading his thighs almost without thinking, letting Erik between them somewhat, and biting back a moan when he filled the space automatically and pushed up against him.

Charles pressed his face into Erik’s neck, breathing in the smell of his skin, the lingering smokiness of cologne along with the salt of exertion, and let Erik press into him. Erik seemed disinclined to let him go anytime soon, clutching him close, which was fine by Charles. He could feel Erik’s cock clearly, hard up against his thigh, and had to swallow back another noise at the thought of how obscene all this was.

He never wanted it to stop.

The music shifted again, as it had earlier, off toward something smokier, more suggestive, and Erik spun him around without much warning. Charles made an irritated noise at being detached so suddenly but Erik didn’t stay away for long, pressing up fully against his back and pulling their hips back together tightly, grinding up against him. Charles all but collapsed back against him, pushing into the movement as much he could.

God, he could feel it so completely in the painfully slow circular movements of their hips, could feel Erik pressing his cock up against his ass, practically rutting up against him. And Charles wanted more, he realized, so much more, everything, everything with this man he hardly knew. He wanted to see it, to hold the long thickness of his cock in his hands, stroke it, hear Erik moan. He wanted to be split open by it, hard enough to keep forgetting who he was, to keep pretending for a while longer.

Charles leaned his head back against Erik’s shoulder, letting him take his weight and he was rewarded by Erik bending to nip and kiss at the line of his neck, lips warm and wet up against his skin. Charles whined quietly at the sensation, unable to help himself. Everything else was falling away until it was just the two of them, overwhelming in spite of everything else.

Charles’s own cock throbbed, trapped in his slacks, untouched and he couldn’t help but bring hand down to give himself even a second of relief.

“Jesus,” Erik hissed right next to his ear again, breath hotter than before. He still smelled like the shots from earlier, Charles thought dizzily, wondered if he tasted like them too.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Erik was kissing him a few seconds later. That did shock him back into reality somewhat but not for long. Soon he was melting into it, turning back around so they didn’t have to crane their necks. Charles opened his mouth almost automatically and soon he found that, yes, Erik did still taste like alcohol, but he also tasted warm and wonderful and addictive. Charles pressed up against him, frantic for more and not in any state to hide it, and Erik just kissed him harder for it, bending him down, clutching him suffocatingly close.

Charles pushed his hips up against Erik’s again and groaned into his mouth at the sensation. His whole body buzzed with it to the point where it was almost overwhelming. That was when Erik decided to pull back, unfortunately.

“Fuck,” Erik swore. He looked completely indecent, pupils blown out, eyelids heavy, hair mussed where Charles had been gripping onto it, so Charles couldn’t imagine how he looked. “Come on. I can’t take this any longer.” Suddenly Erik was grabbing his hand again and pulling him through the crowd, away from the center of the room.

Charles stumbled after him, almost disappointed to leave but willing to be guided. He tried to get ahold of his thoughts but didn’t manage very well. He thought he knew what this meant and what was probably going to happen if he followed Erik. He knew, too, that this wasn’t something that he did. He didn’t go out to clubs to have sex with strangers. Hell, he didn’t go anywhere to have sex with anyone. He’d been involuntarily celibate for years and hadn’t expected that to change anytime soon.

But, in spite of the improbability and his slight nervousness at how quickly this was all happening, he wanted this. He wanted it so badly, wanted Erik’s hands back on him, gripping like he wanted more, touching Charles purposefully, rubbing up against him, kissing him, _looking_ at him like he wanted to fuck him. He had been the whole time, Charles realized belatedly, he just hadn’t recognized it, partially because Erik hadn’t been so overt at first, but mostly because people didn’t look at Charles like that.

And that wasn’t the whole point to this, Charles saw now, but he didn’t care. How could he? He would be an idiot to let this opportunity get away from him. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with Erik, if he had some sort of fetish for overweight, frumpy professor types—he didn’t care. He was going to have sex with this man and he was going to enjoy it and maybe for the first time in ten years he would feel like all of this was worth it.

Charles rode high on that train of thought as they finally escaped the crowd once more. They were up toward the front of the space now where Charles hadn’t been before because it would have required him to do more than run for the nearest wall once he got inside, and it had been difficult to see from where he was, but now he noticed that there was some space beyond the first floor. Stairs led up to what appeared to be an equally-crowded balcony of sorts and there were hallways leading away from the main area on either side of the space.

Erik led them that way, and Charles wondered if he did this often. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that—or about anything in general—but it made him curious. He certainly knew exactly where to go without much thought, walking with clear purpose, seemingly unaffected by the alcohol from before.

Soon he was being tugged into the even darker space, pulled around a corner or two in a disorienting pattern. He could see lights in his eyes, burned there from the dancefloor, but not much else. The music was muffled somewhat, the lyrics more slurred than before through the walls. It was somewhat cooler which Charles appreciated for about all of two seconds before he was being pushed up against a wall and had bigger things to worry about.

Those things mostly being Erik’s hands back on his waist, grasping like before. Charles reached out as well, looking for something to hold onto to orient himself. His head was spinning from more than arousal and he still didn’t really know where they were which was annoyingly distracting. He at least managed to get his arms back around Erik, clinging to something familiar, but Erik didn’t let him catch his breath for long.

There were warm hands slipping up under his shirt, rubbing over his skin, and Charles pressed up against them instinctively. That didn’t appear to be Erik’s main focus, however, seeing how he was realigning their hips again soon after, moving against him. Charles let a sound escape from his chest where he would have bit it back before, and he regretted it. It just sounded annoying, strangely sharp and focused where everything else was distant.

There were teeth and tongue against his neck, moving without much precision. Charles didn’t mind, he supposed, but he would have rather Erik actually kissed him like before. He decided it didn’t matter that much and for a few long moments both of them let their hands wander, touching wherever, not lingering for more than a few seconds. Erik started it and Charles joined in after a few moments, insisting to himself that this felt good, that this was what he wanted.

He wanted to be touched, he wanted to feel someone’s weight up against him—it was the sort of thing that crept up on him when he was lying in bed trying to go to sleep at night and his mind refused to quiet down. It shouldn’t have mattered that it was impersonal; that was the point of places like this.

Charles wondered what the hell was wrong with him then that he wasn’t so sure anymore. Quick as it had come, the high that had coalesced when he was dancing was fading away and taking his eagerness with it. It still felt good to rub up against Erik and he didn’t really mind his hands but something was off.

Something about this place, the fact that he couldn’t even see Erik. He felt like he was underwater with the blurriness of the music still echoing around them and that too was disorienting. Now that he took the time to notice the space even had a stench to it, part too-many-bodies-in-a-small-space, part what Charles assumed to be marijuana (he’d had a few run-ins with freshmen who still thought smoking in the bathroom was something one did in college). It wasn’t a place he wanted to be in.

Erik didn’t seem to be noticing his sudden change of heart, too busy fumbling with his belt and trousers, working at getting them open. Charles shrunk back from him, renewed awareness of himself washing over him after everything else because he could pretend all he wanted out in the open, but here in private there wouldn’t be any hiding. The only thing for Erik to find beneath his clothes was him and Charles knew for a fact that that was nothing to write home about.

All at once he knew, he didn’t want to be naked in front of this man, couldn’t be. Shame was too heavy in his stomach for it. He pushed Erik’s hands off of himself, off the embarrassing softness of his stomach and the complete absence of definition in his form. He pushed him back, managed to break free from his hold and get some space. Once free to move, he took several steps away and tried to slow his heart back down.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do this.

Charles turned away from where he thought Erik was still standing although his vision was still vague at best and stared down at his feet. The back of his throat ached and he tried to swallow it back with little success. He hardly needed to feel more pathetic, but it seemed like his body was in the mood to spite him. He bit back his tears as best he could, tilting his head back as if to keep them in.

 _What the hell is wrong with me_?

Ten minutes ago he was excited and carefree and ready to do something reckless and entirely unlike himself, and now here he was fucking it up. Par for the course, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He thought about forcing it. He really had no idea when he would get another chance like this—the fact that it had happened at all was complete serendipity which he still had yet to riddle out—and he knew he should grab it instead of throwing it away like a complete moron, but he knew in his bones that he couldn’t.

It didn’t feel right and he wouldn’t force himself into it. That was too far even for him. He wouldn’t force Erik into either. Poor man, Charles thought, irritated at himself for being rude to him over circumstantial evidence. Maybe he did want to be someone else, but this wasn’t the way to go about it.

“Are you okay?” Erik asked, much closer than he’d been before but at least not trying to reach out for him again.

Charles jolted, back out of his head and into the present. He swiped at his eyes, hoping Erik was as blind as he was and cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He fumbled with his pants, doing them back up as quickly as he could, shoving his shirt back in. He didn’t know what else to do but be blunt about this. More than anything he wanted to leave, to get out of here as quickly as possible, but he could at least do it without being an asshole this time. “It’s just—I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Erik, I really am. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought I could do it, but I—”

Charles swallowed hard to stop himself from babbling, swiping at his eyes again. God, what Erik must think of him. “I’m sorry.”

Erik was stepping into his space again, pressing a hand underneath his chin. Charles could at least make out his features now, could see how his brow was drawn, could see his eyes searching his face but somehow that was worse. Charles pulled back from him again, stepping away.

“Did I do something?” Erik asked, voice more serious than Charles had been expecting. He kept his distance this time, didn’t come towards Charles. It didn’t do much to make him feel better, paradoxically.

“No,” Charles insisted. “Not at all. This is all my fault.” And it was. His fault for coming here, for not just staying at home, dragging Erik along, promising something he didn’t have to offer. He swallowed again, overcome by just how awful he really felt, sort of like he’d swallowed wet sand and could feel it heavy in his stomach and gritty in his throat.

“Is there something—?”

Charles didn’t hear what Erik said after that because he couldn’t stand there and listen to him try to be nice a second longer. He had to get out of there, out of that room, out of the club, far away from anyone and everyone, especially anyone who knew who he was. He stumbled his way out of the room, trying to follow the light coming from what seemed like too far away and eventually succeeding, back out into the main room.

Then he was shoving through the crowd as fast as he could, feeling like he was pushing against ocean waves from the amount of effort it took and how ceaseless the opposition of the crowd was, but eventually making it back to the door. He shoved past it, past the bouncer and back out into the cool night, running a few yards away from the building, out into the parking lot in an attempt to get further away. Once he felt sufficiently alone he slumped over, clutching at his stomach, trying not to throw up.

 _What the_ hell _is wrong with you_? He felt incredibly angry with himself, half like he wanted to rip his own skin off just to be rid of it. His ears were still ringing from the noise and, dammit, he was still crying.

He was aware he wasn’t going to get anywhere like this and attempted to calm down already, swallowing down some of the fresher outside air, letting it burn down into his lungs. That helped. He rubbed at his eyes hard enough to see stars and then reopened them, let them refocus on their own until he could see clearly again the black asphalt, the streetlights nearby, the businesses across the street all in a row, their shiny glass storefronts all closed up for the night. That helped too.

It was over. He could be pissed at himself for it more later, but for now it was over and he needed to go home. This night had to end before he could do anything else stupid.

It was a good idea, a good thought, the logical option, so Charles wondered why the actual hell part of him felt about as awful out here alone as he had in there, surrounded and in completely over his head.

He scuffed his shoe against the concrete, wishing he could just feel one way or the other instead of making it difficult. But then again, it had always been like this. He wanted to join in, go out like other people he knew, but when he did he felt so ridiculous and out of place that he couldn’t help but wish he’d never tried in the first place.

It wasn’t even like it had all been bad. Out on the dance floor—god, thinking about it made him shudder. He must have looked absolutely absurd—for some impossible stretch of time things had felt okay, good even, better than they had in what seemed like forever. But then it had ended, fizzled out like a firework, leaving only a smoggy, dark sky behind it.

“Hey!” a voice called and Charles wondered if he was going to be yelled at for loitering, but when he looked up it was much worse.

Fuck him, Erik had followed him outside for some reason. Charles froze, stupidly, instead of waving and leaving like he should have.

Erik jogged up to him from across the parking lot, slowing once he got close and still giving him space. He looked _worried_ and that made Charles feel even worse.

“Look, Erik, I’m really sorry, but please let me be,” Charles entreated him, not able to meet his eyes at all. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wished he’d brought a coat.

“Stop apologizing,” Erik said, steel in his voice where Charles hadn’t been expecting it. “You’re acting like I’m upset with you. You don’t owe me anything.”

That drew Charles’s eyes, lured confusion back out from where it was being covered by everything else swirling in his chest. “Then why—?”

“Because you’re not okay,” Erik said, cutting him off, no uncertainty in his voice.

Charles thought maybe he’d follow that up with some sort of explanation but Erik didn’t appear to be the type to extrapolate on his statements. Charles frowned. He was right, of course, but Charles didn’t want to be confronted about it. He also didn’t want to cause this man any more trouble than he already had, didn’t want to bother him with something so superficial.

“It doesn’t matter,” Charles insisted rather than lie. “I’m going home now, so don’t worry about it. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not your problem to deal with.” He thought maybe he’d feel better if he actually didn’t owe Erik anything and that maybe that would be a good way to close this out, so he dug around for his wallet and pulled out a few bills, holding them out to Erik and trying for a smile. “Here. For the drinks.”

Erik stared at him like he was offering him a flyer for a political candidate he didn’t like. “Keep your money, Charles.”

Charles frowned, not really in any state to be refused. He shook the bills at Erik, crumpling them in his grip. “Just take it. I’m giving it to you.”

“I said I don’t want it.”

Charles clenched his teeth, irritation rising as heat in his cheeks. “It’s only fair.”

“I bought them for you because I wanted to. You’re acting like you forced me into it,” Erik grit out, sounding irritated as well, and well, good, at least he wasn’t being so needlessly thoughtful anymore.

It was stupid but it almost felt good to argue about something, even something so small, to release some of the anger and frustration still coiling inside of him. “Well, I’m paying you back because I want to. Just take it!”

Erik shoved his hand away, stepping closer, leaning back over him. “I’m not going to take it so stop waving it in my face!”

“Ugh!” Charles shouted, shoving the money back in his wallet and spinning away from Erik, turning his back on him. He had half a mind to chuck his wallet across the parking lot for something to throw, but he managed to stop himself. He knew he was acting like a child but he didn’t have the mind to care at the moment.

Erik really was driving him crazy, had been all night. It was partially because he was still annoyingly good-looking, even in the shitty parking lot lighting and Charles was kicking himself for not just letting whatever kind of fluke this was happen, but also because of how hot and cold he was, how stubborn. He hadn’t spoken to him much at all but he had a feeling they could really get into it if they ended up on the right subject.

After a few seconds, Charles sighed, deflating slowly. He knew he was just redirecting his anger at Erik for the sake of a conduit and that it wasn’t fair. He pressed his face into his hands again and left it there. “God, I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice muffled. “I know you’re just trying to be nice to me, but it’d be better for both of us if you just leave me alone. Don’t let me ruin your night any more than I already have.”

“No.”

Charles dropped his hands slowly, turned back toward Erik, completely incredulous. “Why not?” he demanded, desperate at this point to know.

“I’m not going to leave you alone out here. You look like shit. Frankly, you’ve looked like shit all night, at least when you weren’t letting whatever it is that’s dragging on you go,” Erik informed him, brutally honest. It stung a little, but Charles couldn’t help but appreciate it. It was better than a false reassurance would have been.

Erik sighed, looking off toward the parking lot and for the first time that night Charles saw him as a real person, not just a handsome stranger in a bar. He had bags under his eyes, lines on his face like anyone else. Charles could see his breath in the air, puffing out in front of him, and goosebumps on his arms. Charles knew even less what to do with him, but it did make him feel a little better somehow.

“What do you want Charles?” Erik asked. “Why’d you come here?”

Charles looked down at the ground, surrendered, slumping into himself, exhausted. “I don’t know.”

Erik nodded. “Come on.” And then he was walking again, off across the parking lot.

Charles followed automatically, drawn after him. And though he thought maybe he shouldn’t go, he was a bit past logical thinking at the moment. Erik stopped near one of the cars and started digging around for his keys. Even as downtrodden as he felt, that made Charles a little nervous. Getting into a stranger’s car didn’t exactly seem like the brightest idea.

Erik seemed to notice his hesitation and sighed. “Come on, Charles. If I was going to do something to you I would have ordered you something a lot stronger after I saw the way you took that first shot. I just don’t want to stand out here anymore.”

Charles believed him, for whatever reason, so when Erik unlocked the car he moved and got in on the passenger’s side, collapsing into the seat and closing the door behind him. It felt good to be off of his feet, letting the chair take his weight. Erik’s door closed soon after and Charles heard him start the car. A minute or two later and there was warm air circulating, the car humming beneath him.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Charles said because he figured it was too late for Erik now and he might as well stop trying to act like he wasn’t completely pathetic. Erik had seen through him all night, it seemed.

Erik laughed quietly. It was dark in the car too, but not suffocatingly so. There was a slight glow from the buttons on the dashboard and the streetlights nearby that softened it. He could feel Erik beside him too but the proximity was casual, not overwhelming. “Most people don’t.”

Charles scoffed. “I guess. But I don’t think I can handle it anymore. I tried for a while and did okay at it but I can’t keep it up anymore.”

Erik didn’t say anything in response so Charles forced himself to lift his head up and look over at him. He was looking back steadily, listening, waiting for more maybe. Charles suddenly felt immensely grateful to him and apologetic in the same vein. He knew he shouldn’t be dumping this on someone he hardly knew, even if they were apparently willing.

“I’m—”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t apologize. Look, I wouldn’t have followed you out if I didn’t know this was coming,” Erik said, staring Charles down to the point where he couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. “I don’t do stuff like this very often and you’re not making it easy on me. Here’s what’s going to happen.” He reached up and buckled his seatbelt. “I’m going to drive and you’re going to talk and at the end maybe we’ll both feel better about ourselves.”

Charles blinked, surprised by the firmness of his voice. But Erik didn’t give him time to think. He was shifting the car into reverse and looking over his shoulder, so Charles buckled his seatbelt and stopped fighting already. Maybe this was what the universe being kind to him looked like. He thought maybe he should stop trying to spit in its face in response.

“Talk,” Erik demanded, clicking on his turn signal to exit the parking lot. “Who are you? What’s your problem? Why are you here? I think you know. You’re just not telling me.”

Charles felt like a student being interrogated. _Do you know why you’re here today, Mr. Xavier?_ It was strange enough to make him smile somewhat, feel a little better. So, Charles got a knife and prepared to spill his guts in front of this man, every boring little detail of them.

“I’m a professor,” Charles told him. “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. I did my undergrad and graduate studies at the same school and I got a job right out of the gates. I’ve lived in the same apartment for eight years and I’ve lived in this town for longer.”

“Mhm,” Erik hummed, as if agreeing. They’d made it out of the parking lot. Lights whipped by like cracks of lightning. The streets were empty this time of night, just the two of them flying through the dark. It looked like he was heading toward the highway which made sense if they were going to be there a while, which they were.

“And I don’t know,” Charles said, squeezing his fingers around his knees. “I feel like I should be happy. I love teaching, I really do. I love my research, but lately it just hasn’t been enough. I feel like I’m stuck in a hole that I dug myself and now I can’t get out of it. I just went through the motions and the years went by and now I’m thirty-two and I can feel every damn day passing and I feel like they’ll just keep going and I’ll keep watching until eventually there are no more days left.”

He sighed, watching the road zip by again. “And it is my fault. I let it happen. I can’t get those years back, I see that now. But now I’m realizing that I’m stuck where I am and trying to get over the fact that this is all I’m ever going to have. That _I’m_ all I’m ever going to have. And it’s not the easiest pill to swallow. I’m not someone I want to be stuck with for the rest of my damn life.”

That made Erik laugh for some reason.

“Is it funny?” Charles demanded, annoyed again, even just vaguely.

“It’s not,” Erik said, easily enough, hands steady on the wheel, merging onto the highway. “It’s sad.”

Charles huffed out his own laugh. “It really is.” He let out another breath, watched the night blur, listened the familiar hum of the car. “It sounds stupid out loud, but I’ve felt like I’m slowly being strangled by it for months.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you feel that way,” Erik told him and it was nice to hear even if he’d purposefully gone fishing for the reassurance. “Anyway, stop criticizing yourself. That’s my job.”

Charles shoved at Erik’s shoulder without thinking, swallowing back a surprised laugh. “You just want an excuse to do it.”

Erik’s lips twitched like they wanted to curl up but he fought it back. “Stop getting distracted. You’re not getting out of this car until you say what you need to.”

“And who decides that?”

Erik did smile at him then, gaudily, more showing his teeth than anything else. “Me.”

Charles could suddenly feel clearly where he’d been touching him earlier again and he turned back away toward the much less incendiary car door. “Fine.”

So Charles told him. Told him his non-sob story, because he didn’t really have one, which made this all the more frustrating. He grew up wealthy. He wasn’t in debt even after going to college for eight years straight. He had a steady job and a career. He was friendly with people around work, liked his students, often felt like he was doing some good in the world, but it didn’t last, just like it hadn’t lasted that night.

He’d done everything right, or so he’d thought. He’d stayed in school, kept his GPA up, studied hard. He volunteered in labs when he was supposed to, got work experience, passed his GREs, gotten into grad school. He wrote and defended his thesis, got hired, started his own research. He participated in the workings of the university outside the classroom, didn’t begrudge teaching like so many other professors seemed to. He graded papers on time and got good ratings on those silly sites students liked to use to review their teachers (not that he looked that often, just every once in a while). He’d get tenure eventually, he was sure.

Everything had gone as planned, and yet, here he was, in the middle of the night on a Thursday, in some stranger’s car, feeling like he couldn’t stand another day of it.

“You put all your eggs in one basket,” Erik told him after he’d been talking for some time. “And it’s a respectable basket, but it was probably the wrong one.” There was a short silence in which Erik took a small breath. “I’ve been dirt broke before, but that didn’t really stop me from being happy. And I have a job now too, I can pay my bills, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit sometimes.”

Charles nodded, mildly intrigued to hear something personal about Erik for the first time. “I just don’t know what to do about it, I guess. My eggs are all gone, you know? Stuck in that same old crappy basket.”

That make Erik laugh. It was a nice sound, low and honest.

“I guess I’m just at that point in life where I should feel like I’ve finally made it. I’m a real adult with a real job and a real apartment, but I was so busy focusing on that that when I looked up everyone else had already passed me by. Colleagues are getting married or have been for years, they’re having babies and moving away. They’re spending their lives on something real,” Charles said quietly. The ache in his chest that was always there when he thought about it throbbed, familiar but no less painful for it.

“So that’s what you want?” Erik asked, quieter too. “Get married, have 2.5 kids and buy a house with a fence out in the suburbs?”

Charles bit at his lip. Not really, but—

He thought it might be nice to not come home to an empty apartment for another ten years in a row. He thought it might be nice to have someone to talk to, who actually wanted to talk to him outside of corporate hours about something other than curriculum and genotyping (interesting topic as it was). He thought it might be nice to not feel ashamed at the thought of someone else touching him. He thought it might be nice to be wanted.

He didn’t say that. It was too much, even as sternly kind as Erik had been. He knew he would just sound like he was fifteen, bemoaning never having a boyfriend, which was sort of how he felt, but it was a lot different when you were twenty and had never been in a serious relationship, or even an unserious one. When you’d never kissed anyone. It was a lot different when you were twenty-five and you’d at least managed that much but it wasn’t like they’d been interested in sticking around afterward. And then you were thirty, and then thirty-one, and then thirty-two and nothing had changed. It was one of those things he thought he’d get used to and then just never had, and it was the kind of thing that wore you down after a while.

And he’d tried to reconcile it. He could live alone, have his own space, his own life. Marriage and all that just wasn’t in his cards. He did get used to thinking that way, he supposed, over the years, but it hadn’t helped anything all that much. He still wanted it, was still jealous of those who had it.

Charles swallowed, the corners of his eyes stinging again. The road hummed under the car’s tires, filling the silence, and Erik didn’t push for more. When Charles looked up he could see so many stars. They were driving away from the city, he thought, out toward the coast maybe and it was clearer out there. So many stars so far away from him.

“You’re the first person who’s touched me like that in eight years,” Charles confessed suddenly, and hell, that sounded pathetic, but it was true and it was part of the puzzle. He wanted to show Erik all the pieces for some reason. Maybe he was hoping, if he did, that he would be able to solve it.

He could hear Erik shift beside him. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder you bolted,” Erik said thoughtfully. “So what, you just snapped? Tonight was the night it was too much.”

“I guess.” Charles shrugged even though Erik couldn’t see. He was getting off at an exit. Maybe he thought Charles was about done and Charles thought maybe he should be. “It’s been too much for a while but this is the first time I’ve tried to do anything about it.”

Erik nodded, but didn’t say anything else and Charles fell back into his thoughts without meaning to, letting the silence stretch again. He did feel better, he supposed, admitting to all of this, but it didn’t really fix anything. Tomorrow he’d go to work and then he’d come home alone and the days would keep passing and he’d keep watching them go by.

The thought made his chest feel hollow and he got stuck in that feeling until the car suddenly came to a stop.

“We’re here,” Erik announced.

Charles blinked, startled, and looked up. They were in another parking lot, near what appeared to be some kind of overlook. They were the only ones there so late at night, the space eerily empty. Charles hadn’t realized they were headed anywhere in particular, but Erik was already getting out of the car so Charles had no choice but to follow him.

Once outside it was easy to tell how close they were to the ocean. The smell of the saltwater permeated the air and the steady rhythm of the waves could be heard crashing up against the cliffs in front of them. The air was cool, almost stinging against his skin, but it was more refreshing than it was abrasive. Erik was walking toward the sound, hands in his pockets, and Charles moved to follow after him.

It was some kind of look-out point, probably for tourists as they drove along to get into the city. There was a plaque explaining the history of the area and pointing out some native species, a pair of pay-to-use binoculars, and bench wrapped around a concrete patch of ground looking over the ocean. Erik sat down on it automatically and Charles was right behind him, settling down onto the wood, being sure to leave some space between them still.

Then Charles looked out at the inky darkness of the sea. He knew it was close by but he hardly ever saw it for whatever reason. He couldn’t even see where the sky started and the ocean stopped, all of it just one dark continuum of air and water, stretching out so far in front of him like infinity. The sliver of moon visible made the crests of the waves glitter like stars on and off, completing the illusion.

Charles took a deep breath of the fresh air, lost in the sight. For some reason he felt like he was going to cry again and he was getting sick of trying to fight it. The waves crashed up against the craggy cliffs in front of them, but it was a comforting, predictable sort of noise. Charles looked down and wondered what would happen if he jumped.

It was a brief thought, but it was there. Still, he thought, if he did he wouldn’t get to see this again, wouldn’t get to see the night melting into the ocean, turning it star-spangled, the horizon blurred into a beautiful continuum. He wanted to see it again sometime.

“This is my thinking spot,” Erik said, voice quiet amongst the waves. When Charles turned to look at him, he found he was staring out at the nonexistent horizon too. “It’s like that children’s book, you know? I forget the name. It was about a bear and a forest. And the bear had a thoughtful spot.”

Charles’s brain spun as it tried to riddle out what he was talking about. “Winnie the Pooh?” Charles suggested. Surely not. Surely Erik wasn’t talking about Winnie the Pooh right now.

“That’s it,” Erik said. “This is my thoughtful spot.”

Charles choked back a laugh, wishing that wasn’t so horribly endearing. “I like it very much.”

“It’s nice because the ocean does the talking, so you can just sit and think.”

Charles thought that he was right. He felt somewhat honored that Erik would share this with him, and he wanted to do his best to be respectful of the place. So he sat and he thought, not about tomorrow or anything else, just about the ocean and the sky. He thought about the cool air on his face and the ground under his feet. It felt like dancing all over again, like being moved by some outside force, but this one was gentler. It was a brush instead of a push, and he found he liked it even more.

He didn’t forget about everything, didn’t completely let go of himself, but he let go of some of his anger, relaxed into the night and the breeze. He tried to forgive himself, just a little bit, at least for tonight. He didn’t want this to be something he looked back on with regret, even if he’d done several things he didn’t completely approve of to get where he was now.

“Can I give you some advice?” Erik said, sounding somewhat hesitant for the first time.

“Of course,” Charles said. “If you want to. You’ve already done much more than you needed to for me.”

“You might not like it.”

Charles chuckled. “I figured. Tell me anyway.”

“Getting into a relationship won’t solve all your problems,” Erik told him, turning toward him again, caging him within his gaze. “I’m sure you could if you wanted to, but I’m telling you from experience that it won’t work. It’s like having a kid to save a marriage. It might give you a reason to keep trying but it’s not going to fix what’s broken. That’s work you’re going to have to do on your own.”

Charles nodded slowly. He supposed he knew Erik was right, although the whole “doing the work on your own” part wasn’t really something he’d ever been good at when it came to himself.

“But don’t give up on yourself, alright?” Erik was looking away now, back toward the ocean. “Nothing lasts forever, even if it feels like it in the moment. Some things just take time. And something tells me you’re selling yourself short. Your eggs aren’t all gone.” Charles had to laugh again at the stupid metaphor and that seemed to ease some of the tension that had suddenly been gathering Erik’s shoulders. “And maybe get laid every once in a while. That’s not gonna fix everything either but it can’t hurt.”

Easy for him say, Charles thought irritably. He looked like he was out here for a photoshoot, wavy hair blowing in the wind, his profile stark against the dark backdrop. But he kept that to himself. Instead he tried take the words heart, tried to believe them, or at least hold onto them for later. His chest ached again, but it wasn’t quite as unbearable.

“Thank you, Erik,” Charles murmured. “That means a lot to me.”

Erik didn’t respond, only nodded stiffly and kept looking at the ocean, so Charles joined him again. It wasn’t like he was completely cured, but he thought, for the first time in a while, he felt better.

They sat for a while longer in Erik’s thoughtful spot until Erik stood and stretched and gestured for Charles to come back to the car. Charles followed him again, casting one last look at the ocean as he went. He’d be back, that much was certain.

Back in the car, Erik was strangely subdued, not as playful as before. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” Charles said and told Erik his address, watched him punch it into his phone and then start the drive back.

It was that strange time of night when nothing quite felt real. Most of the world was asleep and everything was quiet. With Erik’s permission he rolled down his window for a while just to stick his hand out and feel the air buffeting it, pushing up against it, oddly tangible against his palm. It was nice to just let himself be pulled along.

It was a nice time, Charles thought, and for a while he let it be, but eventually he realized if he didn’t say something else, Erik would just drive him home and say goodbye and they’d probably never see each other again, and he didn’t think he could stand that. If this was all the time they had, he wanted to make use of it, so he rolled his window back up, cutting the sound of the road out again.

“Can I ask you something?” He wasn’t sure if Erik would want to talk or not, seeing how withdrawn he’d been thus far, but it couldn’t hurt to try. He was more desperate than ever to know who this man beside him was, to riddle out why he was doing this in the first place, what he was thinking about back in front of the sea.

“…I guess,” he muttered after a pause.

Not completely reassuring, but Charles thought it was better than nothing. “How’d you know?” Charles asked, going for blunt. “You came up to me tonight, so you must have known. You said I looked like shit.”

“I did, didn’t I,” Erik muttered, sounding a little chagrined. For a moment he was quiet and Charles thought he might not answer, but then he did. “There was a look in your eyes, I guess. I knew it because I’ve been there. I looked like shit too. And I didn’t handle it very well. I guess I thought if I could keep someone from fucking up as badly as I did, it would be worth it to try.”

“I see,” Charles said. It was hard to think of Erik like that. He was so confident and strong-willed. He certainly seemed like someone who had it together and always had, but Charles supposed looks weren’t everything. “Why…why were you there? At that club? It sort of seemed like not your regular stomping grounds either.”

“Stomping grounds,” Erik muttered, echoing him and Charles pressed his lips together, not really in the mood to be mocked even jokingly. Luckily Erik responded soon after and distracted him, but not before he let out a slow breath. “It’s not. I hadn’t been out in a while because I was…dating someone. But we broke up about a week ago. By that I mean I dumped him. And tonight was the night it just became too much.”

Charles could connect the dots from there, he thought, from what Erik had said about relationships and them not fixing things. He almost felt bad for asking, but he thought if talking had helped him maybe it would help Erik a little bit too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wondering if reaching out to put a hand on Erik’s shoulder would be too much and deciding it probably would be.

“It’s fine,” Erik said, voice a bit rougher than before. “I should have done it months ago. I knew things weren’t working out.”

Charles frowned, trying to think up something to useful to say. Ultimately he decided keeping it light might be a good idea. “God, I can’t imagine. You show up to have a good time and instead you get stuck with me all night. What a nightmare.”

It worked, drew a small laugh out of Erik. “I think I’ll survive. Admittedly my original plan was just to fuck you and see if that helped anything, but I figured out pretty quickly that your problems were maybe beyond my particular skill set in that area.”

Charles choked out a laugh as well. It was surreal to think about Erik approaching him just a couple of hours ago. It felt like months ago. It was even more surreal to think that he really had done so with the intent of having sex with him. “Probably. I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

Erik was looking at him again, Charles realized, off and on, out of the corner of his eye. It felt different now that they weren’t quite strangers anymore, made Charles shudder and curl in on himself. Existential crisis aside, it wasn’t like he’d stopped being attracted to Erik. Part of him was still very interested in seeing Erik try to fuck his problems away, but he’d figured that opportunity had passed.

“I guess,” Erik said, low again like when he’d been speaking into Charles’s ear before.

Charles tried not to think about it too much for the rest of the ride home. He didn’t pry further into Erik’s feelings, just asked some general innocuous questions. Erik was a journalist and mostly wrote about politics which explained why Charles hadn’t read anything of his, too buried in scientific journals to be bothered most of the time. He was older than Charles by a bit, and, strangely, he had two children who he spoke of very fondly.

Erik had seen much more of the world than he had, that was for sure. Charles gathered that they’d married young, too young, and had kids too soon. They’d separated but it seemed like they were on good terms. Suddenly Charles was hearing about Erik’s son’s track meet and his daughter’s spelling bee. Erik spoke about them very warmly, and Charles thought he would make a very good father, which was the opposite of what he’d thought when he first walked up, V-neck and tight jeans and no personal space. What a strange night it was. A strange, wonderful night.

“You have to show me a picture of them,” Charles insisted right around the time Erik was pulling into his apartment complex and parking.

Erik did once he’d turned the car off. Charles waited while he flipped through his phone, painfully aware that they were about out of time and far more disappointed than he should have been for it.

“Here.” Erik showed him a picture of himself with the two of them, each hanging off one of his arms, smiles all around.

Charles couldn’t fight back his own smile. Normally pictures like that made him feel somewhat inadequate and aware of what he lacked, but at the moment he was glad to hear Erik had people in his life to love. “Your daughter looks like you.”

Erik hummed, looking at the picture himself, leaning toward Charles a little to do it. “That’s what Magda says too. I can’t really see it, but I guess I’m outnumbered at this point.”

Charles laughed and Erik clicked his phone shut, casting the cabin into darkness again. Charles thought this was the part where he was supposed to leave. He’d say thank you one last time and remember Erik fondly, but let him get on with his own life, which he clearly did have. This was much different than meeting some stranger at a bar, far more terrifyingly intimate and Charles thought it would be very easy to mess it up. It would be better to just let it go.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Things had to change to get better, didn’t they? He had to change. Then, this was him trying.

“Would you want to come inside for a minute? Use the restroom or maybe have a drink of water?” Charles asked as nonchalantly as he could manage, forcing the words out through his nerves.

Erik blinked at him, and Charles spent a few agonizing seconds waiting for his response.

“Okay,” he said simply and got out of the car.

Charles felt strange leading the way, but he did his best to walk normally. He led Erik up two flights of stairs over to his door and fumbled with his key to unlock it. Back inside the small, familiar space Charles thought that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else had been over to his apartment.

As a result it was sort of an embarrassing mess, but there was nothing to be done for it. He flipped on a light, casting a regretful look at the papers he had scattered everywhere and the lack of anything like a livable space, and moving further inside. Erik shut the door behind himself and started looking around unfortunately.

Charles moved to the kitchen which was a bit cleaner, hoping Erik would follow. He did, but very slowly.

“How do you find anything in here?” Erik called from where he was still loitering in the living room.

“It’s organized chaos,” Charles informed him. “I know where everything is.” That wasn’t true, but if given enough time he could usually find what he needed. He knew where 80% of everything was, and that was good enough.

Quiet footsteps approached and then Erik was there, in his kitchen, just when Charles didn’t think things could get more surreal. He leaned up against the wall, body stretched out like before, still looking like he was going out, out of place among the white countertops and silver appliances and other symbols of domesticity. Still, part of Charles never wanted him to leave.

He shook himself and forced himself to stop acting strange. Erik was just there to freshen up before he went on his way. “Water?” Charles asked.

“Sure.”

So, Charles went about getting down two glasses and filling them up, bringing one over to Erik who took it and nodded his thanks. And then Charles was watching his throat work again and wondering why he hadn’t just let this man fuck him when he was trying to.

Charles drank some of his own water to distract himself, annoyed again, although he caught onto some of the less pleasant memories of being in that dark space and thought maybe he’d had his reasons. It wasn’t ever Erik that was the issue. In the midst of his mind’s spinning, he recalled he’d offered Erik his bathroom as well.

“I can show you where the toilet is if you want,” Charles told him, figuring he at least ought to be a good host if nothing else.

“I’m okay.”

Oh. Well, that was about it then. Panic gripped Charles again and he wondered at what to do, looking down into his glass as if it had anything meaningful to say.

It didn’t. Not that it mattered because soon it was being pulled from his fingers and set aside on the counter. “What—?” he began, but Erik was stepping back into his space, not quite as forcefully as before, or maybe Charles was just more comfortable now.

Charles looked up at him, his heart running along at a much quicker pace all of a sudden. There were fingers along his jaw, keeping his head tilted up. Erik’s eyes looked quite a lot like the stars. “Tell me to stop,” Erik said, quiet as if he was afraid to disturb the quiet of the space. “If you want me to, I will.”

Charles swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Erik kissed him for the second time that night, slower, sweeter. Charles leaned into it, curling up against him, opening his mouth and tasting some of the salt from the ocean air still on his lips. For the third time that night Charles felt lighter than air, brushing against something like happiness.

Erik’s hands were steady on his waist, not moving anywhere more suggestive and he appreciated it. Even as they kissed he wondered if this was such a good idea. Not in general, but right now. Both of them had bared quite a bit of themselves that night, and he didn’t have much experience but he knew having sex while emotionally compromised didn’t usually end well.

He wanted this. He wanted Erik, more clearly and badly than he’d wanted anything in a long while. However, he also didn’t think it was worth ruining whatever fragile thing they’d started to build that night to rush ahead.

His body firmly disagreed with him, but Charles didn’t think it deserved much say.

Erik seemed to notice his wavering because he pulled back, just pressing their foreheads together. He looked Charles over, calculating.

“I’m just…” Charles didn’t know quite how to explain without it seeming like he was jumping to conclusions about whatever it was between them. “…not sure.” He hurried to amend that. “About tonight I mean. I’m not sure—” He also couldn’t help but remember how ashamed he felt to have Erik touching him before and that was back when they could hardly see each other. There wouldn’t be any hiding in his apartment.

“Can I make you a deal?” Erik asked. Charles nodded. “Why don’t you think about it for a little while? Do whatever you want in the meantime. If you’re still not sure, I’ll leave it for tonight.”

For tonight. That was an interesting addition, Charles thought. “Alright,” he said. “I can take a shower or something.” He would want to anyway, if he was going to go through with this.

So he did. He left Erik with the couch and TV remote to keep him company and wandered off to shower and think. The warmth of the water was a small blessing after the cool night air and there was always something metaphorically satisfying about being able to wash one’s troubles away. Charles stood under the water for a long while, not doing anything particularly productive, just letting it run over him and down into the drain in a clean sweep.

Admittedly that meant he didn’t do much thinking until the very end when he was standing in front of the mirror and trying to see if he looked any different and also wondering if he could go through with this or not.

He couldn’t remember the last time so much had happened to him in a single night. Still, looking over himself, he didn’t look any different. It was still him. And even if he wasn’t incredibly pleased with what he saw, he’d known what his answer what before he’d even stepped into the shower. He was tired of holding himself back from things for some stupid ideas he had in his head about worth. There was a handsome, kind, funny man out in his living room waiting around for him and he wasn’t going mess this part up.

The night wasn’t over yet.

So he threw on some pajamas and went to step outside—and jumped about a half-foot in the air because Erik was standing right outside the damn door, apparently waiting to give him a heart attack.

“Jesus,” he squeaked, aware that Erik was looking him over again.

“Sorry. I got impatient,” Erik admitted. “What do you think?”

Charles looked him over again and noticed the tension in his limbs, a similar darkness to his eyes from before, back again, even in this much quieter setting. Again, Charles thought _to hell with it_.

“Yes,” Charles said, already breathless, “I want to.”

Erik moved immediately, pressing up against Charles, clinging onto him like before, like they were dancing again, and recaptured his mouth. Charles opened up for him without much thought at all and the kiss turned sloppy within seconds. Charles couldn’t help but moan quietly into it, already feeling intoxicated by the slickness of it.

Erik pressed him up against the wall next to the bathroom and held him there, pulling back to speak. “I still don’t think I’ll be able to fuck the mid-life crisis out of you completely, but I can definitely try.”

Charles couldn’t do anything but nod, giving himself over to this completely, letting Erik hold onto him.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

Charles was more than happy to show him and he soon found himself being pushed down onto his mattress with Erik following close behind him. It was something else to feel Erik’s strength on his body and he was more than a little excited to feel even more of it soon enough. His cock was aching again, denied before but undeterred. He was gratified to feel Erik’s own arousal up against his thigh again where Erik had attempted to push their hips together and missed somewhat.

Charles was floored by how eager the other man seemed to be for this and reached up to grab onto his hips and redirect them, moving so they could grind up against one another properly. It made both of them groan and Erik didn’t stop rubbing up against him once he’d started.

“Tell me if you don’t like something,” he demanded, “or if you want something.”

Charles couldn’t help his sharp inhale in response. Much like before he knew what he wanted and now he knew to just ask for it. “Kiss me,” he begged. “Please.”

Erik did, pressing him down into the mattress and kissing him hungrily. Charles clung onto his shoulders and got lost in the movements of their hips and the ventures of Erik’s tongue in his mouth. It was so good, Charles thought, just this was so good.

Erik’s hands started wandering again after a short while of lazy grinding and Charles couldn’t help but stiffen somewhat, nervous from earlier and in general. Unfortunately, it made Erik pull back, kneeling over him to see what was wrong.

“Do you not like your chest touched?” he asked and Charles flushed.

All the things he’d told Erik tonight, and still he doubted he could bring himself to admit this one, so he tried for a different excuse. “I’m just not used to it,” he claimed which was true.

Erik looked like he didn’t quite believe him but started in on the buttons of his shirt anyway. Charles forced himself to not think too much about it, watching Erik’s eyes instead, how focused he was on his task. Soon enough he was pushing at the fabric and Charles was struggling his way out of it. He went to lie back down but Erik stopped him.

“Undershirt too, while you’re up.”

Charles hesitated, but steeled himself and pulled it off, baring himself for Erik to see. He laid back down because it was a pain to sit up the way he had been, though he doubted that helped anything. He forced himself to glance up at Erik, see the damage, but Erik didn’t look any different than he had before. There were fingers running over his skin, gentler than before, a very light touch, moving in small circles.

“Look at you…” Erik whispered and he sounded—appreciatory which was ridiculous.

Objectively, Charles knew he wasn’t anything to look at. He hadn’t been to the gym in far too long, too busy and figuring it didn’t really matter seeing how there was no one he was trying to impress, and it showed, especially around his waistline. Still, Erik wasn’t looking at him with any less desire than before, and Charles didn’t understand it, but he was beyond questioning it at the moment. Instead he allowed himself to feel a little relieved.

Erik leaned in to kiss at his neck, right under his jaw, and Charles lost track of any coherent thought for a good minute at least when Erik started sucking at the skin.

 _He’s going to leave a mark_ , Charles thought vaguely, _I have work tomorrow. Jesus Christ_.

He did not, however, make any attempt to stop him, only stayed still and clutched onto Erik’s shirt, hoping desperately that he would keep going.

Erik certainly didn’t make any move to stop. Charles could feel the slight edge of teeth against his skin, running over it but never making any move to actually press in. Still, the prospect made Charles feel somewhat giddy. Erik moved back up over his jaw to reconnect their mouths, leaving his neck alone for the moment. He kissed him deeply enough to make him feel short of breath and pleasantly dizzy, pressing him down against the mattress with the weight of his body. It was enough to have Charles clinging on tighter.

Charles didn’t actually know what it took to leave a visible mark on someone’s skin but part of him hoped Erik actually had succeeded at doing it if only so that when he woke up tomorrow he’d know that this wasn’t all some ridiculously detailed dream.

Erik’s hands were back on his waist which wasn’t exactly where Charles would have wanted them to be but he slid them down lower before Charles could say anything, down to his thighs, around until he was nudging them lightly apart. Charles got the hint when he pulled back, getting off of him and giving him some space to move.

The loss of his body heat was visceral and hurried Charles along. He spread his legs slightly, not as uncomfortable as he could have been seeing how he still had some clothes on. Erik watched him carefully the entire time, his gaze like a touch in and of itself. Charles could almost feel it running along his body and he couldn’t help but squirm a little under the close inspection.

Part of him wanted to move, but he held the position when Erik didn’t move at first, feeling like that was what the other man wanted, for whatever reason. After a few excruciating moments Charles couldn’t help but glance off toward the innocuous presence of his pillows a couple feet away, swallowing back his growing embarrassment as best he could. “Well? Hurry up,” he demanded to mask it.

It worked, snapping Erik out of whatever trance he was in, making him laugh again, and here, ranging over Charles, sliding in between his legs, pressing them apart and keeping them there, it was silky and low, made Charles forget some of his concern all over again. “Sorry,” Erik said, “it’s been dark everywhere before this so I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Charles fought the urge to roll his eyes at what had to be a line, quickly distracted by Erik peeling off his own shirt, tossing the fabric off over his shoulder, onto the floor. _Holy shit_ , Charles thought and fought furiously to make sure the phrase didn’t actually slip out. It wasn’t like the top had been hiding much, but still. If he wasn’t so turned on, Charles thought he might have been a little bit angry. As it was, he was just hit by the strange urge to lick over the swells of muscle occupying Erik’s chest and felt a bit disappointed about being thoroughly held down because it meant that he couldn’t.

He could, however, reach out and touch which he felt brave enough to do, reaching up to run his hands over the hard planes of Erik’s chest. He was very warm, Charles noticed, and he could feel his heart beating underneath his palm if he pressed it in the right spot. For whatever reason that made everything feel more real all at once and Charles stilled for a few moments, trying to let it sink in.

“Alright?” Erik asked after a pause, raising his eyebrows at Charles.

Charles nodded. It was, actually. Charles moved his hand up so he could cup the sharp line of Erik’s jaw, run his thumb over the arch of his cheekbone. His skin was a little scratchy where he would probably have to shave in the morning. Charles’s stupid heart did a bit of skittering at the thoughts of Erik and morning and shaving and the strains of domesticity that came along with it which he fought back because that _wasn’t_ what this was supposed to be about.

He offered Erik a smile to distract himself and refocus on the situation at hand. “Yes,” he said, “perfect.”

The answer made something gleam in Erik’s eyes and suddenly there was a hand back on his thigh and another between his legs and both were squeezing and Charles couldn’t bite back his moan. His eyes flew shut as he pressed up into Erik’s hold instinctively, a shock of pleasure going up his spine. Erik was generous and kept going, rubbing his palm against his erection, making Charles see another sort of stars.

Erik stopped soon after but only to replace his hand with his own hips, grinding back up against Charles slow and deliberate. The feeling of it made Charles whine and spread his legs apart further, trying to get Erik closer. Erik’s grip on his thighs tightened and he took a sharp breath in.

That was interesting, but not exactly what Charles wanted, so when he was readjusting and rubbing up against him again Charles pressed back and _that_ made Erik groan. It was quiet but it was there and something sparked, hot and hungry, inside of Charles at the sound.

“Erik,” he called, breathless, his mind gloriously flooded with heat, pressing everything else out of it for the time being, and started pushing down the waistband of his pants, not interested in messing around much longer. He wanted to feel Erik actually between his legs and to be free of his frustrating confines, anxiety over being completely naked in front of someone else be damned.

Erik took the hint and helped undress him the rest of the way until he could feel the cool air of the bedroom over all of him and his cock was hard up against his stomach, aching. Charles was more concerned with reaching down to give himself a second of relief than anything else at first, stroking up over himself and biting back a relieved sound.

In the meantime Erik must have worn through whatever patience he still had because he was pushing Charles’s hand out of the way to press him down, hands and mouth back on his skin. Charles huffed and dug his hands into Erik’s hair for something to hold onto, just feeling. Erik was making his way down the center of his chest and his hands were roaming again, but it felt different than before.

Everything was different here in the low light of his room than it had been in the smoky anonymous darkness of the club, but Charles found that he liked it much better. For all that it was revealing, it meant that he could see Erik clearly, the path of his hands, the edge of light gilding half of his body, the notches of his spine in the curve of his back and the auburn shade to his hair. He wanted to see all of it so that he could remember this.

There would be no watching time slip away from him aimlessly tonight. Tonight he was going to savor it.

Charles whined a little, annoyed when Erik ignored his cock completely to kiss over his hip. All it did was make Erik grin wickedly. Charles could see the sharp edge of the expression when he lifted his head briefly to flash it up at him and pressed his head back into the mattress with half a mind to make use of his own hand again. Ultimately he decided against it, not wanting to rush through this.

It was strange to have someone kissing where Erik was, over his stomach and hip. His encounters with other men before this had been fairly focused, but Erik seemed unconcerned with anything other than what was currently in front of him and Charles found he didn’t mind that much. He actually liked Erik’s hands on his thighs until he started squeezing at them.

“Hey,” Charles complained. He didn’t appreciate being treated like a loaf of bread being tested for proper softness before purchase. He was aware of the extra skin there; he didn’t really need to be reminded.

Erik rubbed his lips along the inside of one of his legs, having moved steadily lower until he was bending down low between Charles’s legs—and god, what a sight that was—before he glanced up. “What?” he asked, pushing his thighs up further toward his chest.

Charles hissed slightly at the strain of it and struggled a little in Erik’s grip. “You don’t need to squish me.”

Erik didn’t reply at first, too busy kissing an unnecessarily sloppy line down from under his knee to close enough to his hole to make Charles’s cock twitch. “Why not?” he eventually asked, hovering there when he was done and squeezing at where he was holding Charles’s legs up again.

Charles flushed, torn between the arousal in his stomach and the slight ache of shame in his chest. “Because it’s rude.”

“I’m not doing it to insult you,” Erik pointed out, rubbing his cheek up where he’d been kissing, making it difficult for Charles to not jerk back, ticklish. There was a challenge in his eyes all of a sudden, Charles thought, like there had been back when he’d been asking Charles to dance. Charles gritted his teeth at it, not really sure it applied here. “I like your legs.”

Charles couldn’t fight back his scoff and he regretted it because it made something like recognition flash in Erik’s eyes. Charles felt a stab of irritation and worry over having been caught. He wished he could have just left it alone and let it happen rather than saying anything about it, but it wasn’t like all of his issues went beyond skin-deep. It was all in one, the whole package. He supposed he knew Erik was smart enough to figure that out eventually.

Oddly, Erik didn’t actually say anything about it. Instead he went back to what he’d been doing before, switching from one leg to the next. Charles let him, insisting to himself to keep his damn mouth shut already since apparently he was being given another chance at it. Stranger still, Erik moved to actually lie down between his legs afterward, pressing his hands against the apex of his hips and his legs, looking him over.

Charles felt incredibly exposed, but he was still biting his tongue so he didn’t say anything about it. He wondered what exactly Erik was doing. It didn’t take him too long to get a clue at least.

“Has anyone eaten you out before?” Erik asked with a surprising amount of solemnity.

Charles balked at the question, partially because of the image it put in his head, partially because Erik hadn’t asked anything more about his sexual history than what he’d admitted to earlier, thank god, and partially because he had no idea where the hell that’d come from. “No,” he sputtered, because of course not. Charles figured that would have required him to have sex more often than once in a blue moon or to have had it with someone who saw him as something more than a matter of convenience.

Erik raised his eyebrows. “Well, then they clearly didn’t get to see this…” He nodded his head to indicate where Charles had his legs spread, not trying at all to hide where he was looking.

Charles flushed almost violently. “Shut up,” he complained, wishing he could cover himself up somehow. It wasn’t like he hadn’t bottomed before but no one had ever spent so much time just staring at him and that was better in his opinion. All it was doing now was making him anxious and uncomfortable. He didn’t even know what Erik was going on about or what he was trying to do.

Erik’s eyes were back again, catching hold of his. “No,” he said, stubborn in his refusal.

Charles screwed his eyebrows together. “No?”

“No,” Erik agreed, moving to brush the pad of his thumb lightly over his hole, making Charles jolt again. “You got your chance to talk. It’s my turn now.”

Charles blinked, thoroughly confused. “I don’t—”

“Well,” Erik said as if he was continuing on some other conversation rather than the one they were currently having. “I’m certainly going to. I don’t really like to watch good opportunities pass me by.” He was rubbing over Charles’s hole now, putting pressure there.

“Erik, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Charles said, unable to be subtle about it at the moment.

“I’m going to eat you out,” Erik informed him, snapping his eyes back up, “because I want to. I’ve wanted to since you were pushing your ass up against me earlier. And because I’m hoping it’ll make it so you stop fucking thinking for five seconds and start enjoying yourself already.”

Charles was stunned silent for a few moments, his mind spinning faster than ever, and he opened his mouth up to argue but all that came out was a choked-off moan because Erik was running the flat of his tongue over his hole and curling his arms around his thighs to keep him still.

He didn’t give Charles a chance to catch his breath either. From there on it was all slick strokes of his tongue and the occasional brush of teeth against his rim and Erik pressing up against him with no apparent intention of pulling back any time soon. It wasn’t like anything Charles had felt before, but it was—god, incredibly good. There _was_ friction to some degree but it was light enough to drive him crazy. It made him want to push back up against Erik’s mouth for more, but Erik was holding him down somewhat so he couldn’t do so with any real efficacy.

Charles could admit that Erik was certainly accomplishing his goal. His brain wasn’t producing a single worthwhile thought beyond a continuous throb of fascination and arousal at how this felt and disbelief that Erik was doing it in the first place and desperate hope that he wouldn’t stop. His cock ached and he could feel stickiness on his stomach from precum dripping there. He dug his fingers into the blankets, desperately holding on and trying not to squirm too much.

He could also admit when Erik spared a moment to kiss back up the inside of his thigh, dragging the wetness on his lips over the skin, that Erik had a point. As long both of them wanted this then nothing else mattered, not right now. He clung to that thought and let Erik keep scrambling his thoughts for a good long stretch of time.

Charles stared up at the ceiling blearily and sometimes managed to glance down at where Erik’s face was pressed between his legs. The noises were completely obscene and Charles couldn’t get enough of them, wet suction up against skin, messy and indecent and making the muscles in his abdomen ache from strain. Erik lapped at him and dipped his tongue in sometimes when Charles couldn’t help but go completely slack from the attention. The intrusion was slight but it was enough to make him gasp. Even that didn’t compare to when Erik sucked at his rim. That had him throwing his head back and pressing his hips up for more, fighting against Erik’s grip anyway.

Still, he reached a point when he couldn’t take it anymore.

Charles had given up trying to fight back the noises he was making a while ago, unable to stop himself, but he forced himself to focus now. “Erik,” he said, a half-plea. He was licking at him, slow, careful strokes of his tongue that had become too much and not enough at the same time. “Please. I can’t take it.”

He pulled back and Charles tried to catch his breath. He didn’t have the mind for anything other than lying where he was and thinking very hard about what he wanted Erik to do to him as if he could impart the images and ideas telepathically, so when Erik let go of his legs he left them splayed open, not sure he had enough strength to lift them and not really caring either way.

Erik pushed himself back up, wiping at his mouth, and why the hell did he still have his pants on? If Charles could move he would have ripped them off of him. It was unfathomable that they were still there.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” Erik told him, looking him over again.

Charles felt wet and open and exposed, but that was tied in directly with the arousal burning in his veins and his need for more. He didn’t protest the statement, taking it as it was for the time being and even allowing himself to indulge in believing it for a short while. When he held his arms out Erik came back to him, kissing him sloppily on the mouth and then along the side of his face.

“Did you like it?” Erik asked, voice rough in Charles’s ear.

“Yes,” Charles told him, unable to be anything but honest.

“Good.” Erik kissed him on the mouth again as if in reward before he went back to his neck. “What are you thinking about now?”

There were teeth on his skin this time, nipping along. It made adrenaline speed through his bloodstream, an added drug on top of everything else and Charles decided he was sick of waiting. “I’m thinking about how much I want you inside of me right now.”

Erik froze where he was and Charles liked that for some reason, liked the power he suddenly had with just his words.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Charles asked, curling his fingers back into Erik’s hair.

That made Erik groan. “Yes,” he said into his neck. “’ve wanted to all damn night.”

He sounded desperate, Charles thought, and what a heady realization that was. Charles took another steadying breath. “Then why do you still have your pants on?”

Charles almost laughed at how quickly Erik moved to remedy that situation but again he was distracted by the new skin revealed to him as Erik struggled his way out of his jeans. It was almost embarrassing how quickly his mouth started to water when he finally got a look at Erik’s cock, but he couldn’t really blame himself. He’d felt it earlier, but there was a difference between that and seeing the length of it jutting out obscenely between Erik’s legs.

Charles couldn’t help but get a hand around him, feeling the weight of his cock in his palm, giving it a nice long stroke and watching precum bead at the tip in response. Charles liked the sound Erik made when he did it. He pressed his thumb right underneath the crown and the look on Erik’s face was fantastic. Charles did his best to burn it into the back of his eyelids. Still, somehow, the dark, purposeful look in his eyes when he reopened them was even better.

All at once things grew frantic, both of them hurrying along, overly-eager. Erik was prepared, luckily, producing a couple of packets from his jeans pocket which Charles didn’t think about other than to be glad since he certainly didn’t have anything helpful on hand. He pressed Charles’s legs back apart, forcing Charles to let go of his cock which he didn’t really appreciate but got over quickly enough when Erik started pressing his fingers up against his hole.

Soon Erik had a digit fit inside of him, pumping in and out, and Charles was working to adjust to the stretch of it. He’d never exactly gotten used to this, hadn’t had enough chances at it to do so, so he had to work a little for it. Luckily his body was right on board and Erik knew what he was doing. Another finger and then another and then Charles was just slumped against the mattress while Erik spread them out inside of him.

Charles thought maybe he should feel nervous. He usually did when he did this, but that feeling wasn’t there. There was just the steady pulse of arousal and the desperate need for more that grew stronger the longer Erik fingered him. Just the two of them, sharing this. _What a wonderful night_ , Charles thought, _what a fucking unbelievable, incredible night_.

“I’m ready,” he gasped after Erik bumped over his prostate for what felt like the millionth time and Charles was beginning to be worried he’d come from just this.

Erik cast a far-too-serious look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” Charles told him, grinning. “Are _you_ ready?”

Erik didn’t respond but he leaned up to kiss Charles viciously which Charles took for a yes, especially considering he took his fingers back soon after. Charles whined, not liking the ache he was left with. On the bright side, Erik was moving with purpose still, rolling on a condom and slicking himself up.

Charles became engrossed in watching Erik handle himself, feeling his cock twitch at the sight, enough so that when Erik finally did press up against him it was a little surprising. Charles shook himself out of it and braced himself for what was next. Erik seemed to be looking for a sign that it was okay to keep going so Charles nodded at him. Anything to get him to move. The blunt, glancing pressure up against him was a little unbearable.

It was—well, a bit of a stretch because it always was and also because Erik was not exactly average in any sense of the word, but Charles found he didn’t really mind the ache of it. He gave himself over to the feeling of being opened up, split apart. His mind fragmented with him and Charles let it happen, let himself go. He thought maybe when he managed to put himself back together again he might turn out a little better this time, a little less mismatched, the pieces better aligned. And if not, well, just the feeling of this was enough to make it worth it.

Erik pressed all the way inside of him, up until their hips met and he stopped, squeezing tight at Charles’s hips. Charles fought to get his breath back, clenching around him, unable to help himself. He was always struck by the inexorable feeling of being filled like this, the way he could feel just how hot Erik was inside of him. He fought to breathe and relax somewhat to help make this easier. God, he’d forgotten completely how this felt.

“Fuck,” Erik swore, dropping his head. “Can I move?”

Charles nodded frantically, desperate for friction of some sort, anything but this static state they were in. Erik listened, thankfully, pulling out and shoving right back in. Charles groaned, taken by the force of it and struggled to spread his legs further, desperate for Erik to keep going.

He did, and he didn’t pull his punches, fucking him fast and rough. Charles couldn’t have been happier about it. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for something slow and gentle. He wanted to feel Erik’s hips shoving up against his, wanted to feel the strength in Erik’s movements, wanted to feel his cock as deep as possible. He wanted to feel alive and wanted enough to make someone want to fuck him like this, desperate and reckless and insatiable. The simple, base need for this was enough. That was what he wanted, no thoughts, no worries, just their bodies working as one toward a simple goal.

He didn’t mind, however, when Erik leaned down closer to him so he could put his arms around his shoulders and hold on. And he didn’t mind when Erik smattered startlingly soft kisses over his neck and shoulder. He didn’t even mind when Erik slowed down his thrusts but kept the same force, pressing deep into him and managing to rub the head of his cock over his prostate every once in a while.

He liked when Erik brought a hand down to start stroking his cock where it had been left aching and unattended against his stomach. He liked that he used the other one to rub at where the rim of Charles’s hole was stretched around his cock, where they were connected. He liked when Erik leaned down further to start kissing him again, swallowing the noises he’d been making, and that when he pulled back he just pressed his face back into Charles’s neck, keeping him caged within the overwhelming warmth of his body as if he was protecting him.

“So beautiful, Charles,” Erik rumbled, speaking up against Charles’s skin. “So beautiful, taking this so well.”

Charles couldn’t shield against the words, couldn’t deflect them at all. All he could do was take them as they were, mixed in amongst everything else, the steady build of heat inside of him and the devastating need for this to just keep going, to keep feeling like this forever, to not have to think about anything. And he didn’t know if it was true, but hearing someone say it—hearing Erik say it—made it all overwhelming and without much warning he was coming, falling into his release, sobbing through the abruptness of it.

He dug his fingers hard into Erik’s back, felt Erik keep stroking him through it, felt his cock still moving inside of him, and lost track of himself completely for a few blissful seconds. When it was over he realized his eyes actually were wet and the back of his throat was hurting a little again and—and it was far too soon to be thinking about any of that.

The feelings were there, but Charles let them go, let them float off into his subconscious for the time being, off into the night. In the meantime he enjoyed the overstimulation that came from Erik continuing to press in and out of him, the burn of it on top of the sudden release of tension from his own climax, until Erik started to lose his rhythm and groaned through his own orgasm, still pressing his face into Charles’s shoulder.

There was a small silence as the two of them recovered somewhat that wasn’t really a silence. Both of them were breathing into it, catching their breath together, mutually exhausted and mutually satisfied. Erik moved off of him sooner than he would have liked, but it did give him a chance to stretch out and not have someone’s weight on top of him anymore.

Erik got unsteadily to his feet still looking a little dazed and moved to throw the condom in the trashcan by the door. Charles wiped at his eyes when Erik was turned away, not really wanting to taint this. He was worried Erik might want to leave right after, but all he did was climb back into bed with Charles, collapsing down next to him and sighing heavily.

Charles decided to be brave and look at the clock next to his bed. He regretted it afterward. He was supposed to be awake and getting ready for work in less than three hours.

He sighed too. Ah well. It wasn’t really the sleep he was worried about.

When he looked again he found that Erik had closed his eyes, and Charles took the chance to look him over. He looked lovely, body relaxed, sinking down into Charles’s sheets. Charles swallowed. That probably wasn’t a great line of thought to start down right now.

Erik’s eyes opened and refocused on him. Charles had thought they looked icy earlier but now they looked more saturated, blue like the sky on a spring morning. That didn’t make his gaze any less direct. His expression grew more serious and he raised a hand to rest against Charles’s cheek, running his thumb carefully under his eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sitting up somewhat, propping himself up on his elbow. “Did I hurt you?”

Charles thought that maybe Erik being so incredibly attentive wasn’t always such a good thing. He’d sort of hoped to bask in the afterglow of the breaking of his eight-year celibacy for a while, but this probably couldn’t wait. “Not at all,” he insisted. “It was just…a lot at the end.”

Erik scrutinized him for a long moment as if he was performing a visual lie-detector test and didn’t move his hand. Charles couldn’t help but lean into his palm and think about things he shouldn’t have been thinking about.

 _This is why one night stands don’t work for you_ , he thought irritably to himself. It didn’t help that he knew more about Erik than he had about almost anyone else he’d slept with. This hadn’t been the main event, but the finale to an emotionally-charged night. It was difficult to extricate one from the other.

But that was him thinking about the future again, and he didn’t want to do that at the moment. He just wanted to enjoy this moment, this night. Looking so far ahead was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. So he smiled at Erik and shrugged it off.

Erik was right. This was something for him to deal with, and it was going to take time. That wasn’t what this had been about. So, he’d leave it for later. Not for forever, but not tonight.

Erik appeared to believe him because he settled down again, ran his hand down Charles’s neck to his shoulder, squeezing there.

Charles wondered what was supposed to happen next. Usually one of them was supposed to leave, he knew, and since this was his house, he supposed that meant Erik. His heart ached a little at the idea of never seeing him again after this, but he thought it was probably inevitable. And maybe for the best.

It occurred to him that if Erik had just broken up with someone that he was technically a rebound. He’d never been that before, but he hadn’t exactly heard great things.

“What time is it?” Erik asked after a pause.

“3:39,” Charles read and tried not to laugh at the face Erik made. Something occurred to him then. “You don’t need to get back for your kids or something, do you?”

Erik looked surprised for a moment, maybe that Charles had brought it up, but he shook his head. “No. They’re at Magda’s. We trade off weeks. I just have to work tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Charles said ruefully.

“You should blow it off,” Erik suggested. “You probably haven’t taken a day off in years.”

That was true, but just the thought of it made Charles nervous, thinking of all the things he’d miss. Whatever face he was making must have been funny because Erik laughed. “I was just kidding.”

Silence swept back in for a spell, leaving just the two of them breathing, lying facing each other on their sides. Charles wondered at how different they both were, and at the ways they were the same. He wondered how they’d both ended up here. He wondered what Erik was thinking. He wondered what things would be like after tonight.

He wished there didn’t only have to be one tonight.

“Hey.” Charles blinked, drawing himself back into the present. Erik had sat up and was leaning over him.

“Hey,” he replied, not sure what else to say.

Erik gave him a strange look, similar to the one before, like he didn’t know what to make of him. Charles had to stretch his mind to think about it. The club felt like months ago, the sea weeks. Exhaustion was crowding in around the edges of his mind, making everything seem soft-edged and far away.

Eventually Erik looked away, off toward the wall, looking uncertain again. It took him some time to look back. “Do you mind if I just crash here? I’ll be out early, I promise.”

Charles blinked, wondering why all of a sudden he was getting so lucky. It seemed a little suspicious. “Of course.” No need to question it, he supposed.

He forced himself to not do something like offer to sleep out on the couch or vice versa. Instead he just crawled up to shove his covers back and waited for Erik to follow after him.

He did.

There was some shuffling around and last ditch efforts to clean up with some nearby tissues, during which Charles clicked off the light, but none of it really mattered because Erik was pulling him against his chest as soon as they were lying down. Charles stiffened at first but relaxed soon after, curling up against him and letting himself be held. He pressed his face into Erik’s neck, listened to his heart beat again.

“Thank you,” he said, because he’d been wanting to say it for a while and now that it was dark and quiet he felt like he could do it. “For everything.” And it wasn’t enough, not at all, to impart how grateful he felt for even just this much. It was everything he hadn’t had for so long and to get even the briefest taste of it was more than he could have dreamed of.

Erik was quiet for a moment but then he was moving, pressing Charles back somewhat. Charles let himself be detached, a little off-put but not feeling up to fighting it, and soon he understood anyway. Erik kissed him carefully like he was afraid he might break if he pushed too hard. Charles let him because it felt good to be treated that way every once in a while. He curled back into Erik when he was done and Erik let him go.

“What do you think will happen tomorrow?” Charles asked drowsily, not really meaning for it to slip out. Sleep was heavy on his eyelids and Erik’s warmth was pulling him under faster.

Erik let out a small breath. “I don’t know. The sun’ll come up, go up in the sky for a while, then come back down, something like that.”

Charles nudged at him, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I think we’ll be alright,” he said, just to say it. Speak it into existence or something like that. “Both of us, you know? We’ll be alright.”

Erik’s grip tightened around him and he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Charles wanted to keep talking about it, but before he could the night was slipping away and taking everything else along with it, leaving just the dark and the quiet.

***

When Charles woke up, it was just him in the bed. That jolted him awake and he sprang up. His head ached vaguely, not enough to be incapacitating but enough to be annoying. His ass ached too, and so did his hips and his back which meant—

It hadn’t been a dream.

Charles rubbed at his eyes and then at his temples, staring blankly at the milky gold rays of sun just beginning to stream into his room. He needed to get up, shower maybe, go to work. He needed to make up all the grading he’d fallen behind on last night, needed to check his email to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important and his phone, god where even was his phone?

Rather than do any of that, Charles collapsed back into the bed, sighing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes again.

Everything was rushing back to him, the good and the bad, all at once, making his head really truly hurt. He could hardly believe it had been real, but it had. The question was, now what?

He glanced over at the empty half of his bed. _Hopefully he got home alright_ , he thought.

Images flashed through his mind, one after another of Erik, some far too erotic for so early in the morning. Charles tried to shake them out of his head, but words rushed in instead, replaying, echoing around. He wondered what do with all of them.

In the end, he managed to get up and wander over to his bathroom. He splashed some water on his face, tried to get himself into gear. It was another day, whether he liked it or not.

Charles frowned because that kind of thinking was why he’d started dreading mornings rather than looking forward to them in the first place, at least in part.

He looked up at himself in the mirror and noticed there really were marks on his neck. It almost made him laugh to see. They looked so strange on him. He ran his fingers over one carefully, pressing down until it turned light and then slowly faded back into color. He looked himself over, same as the night before.

It was still him, despite of everything. Despite the crazy night and all the years before it and all the years to go.

Strangely, for once the idea was reassuring.

Charles wandered out of the bathroom and found his phone on the kitchen counter. He stared at it for a few long minutes, feeling the time pass him by.

One day wouldn’t kill him.

The administrator at the other end of the line was refreshingly shocked to hear him call in but assured him it was fine. They’d take care of it, please feel better Dr. Xavier, hope to see you back on Monday.

Charles hung up and looked around his apartment at the light streaming in from all sides. And just like that he had the whole day ahead of him. He could go anywhere, do anything he wanted. He could sit at home and watch movies, he could go visit his sister for the first time in months, anything at all.

And it had been so easy.

It was something to think about for sure. He wondered what Erik would think if he knew he actually had skipped work and then pushed the thought away. That was what he wasn’t going to do. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life stuck on him.

Ultimately Charles went back to bed for a few more glorious hours—god, when was the last time he’d slept in past nine?—before he forced himself through the process of showering and making himself presentable.

 _It’ll be alright_ , his mind echoed about halfway through his shower. Charles did remember saying that, now that he thought about it. He thought that maybe he was right after all.

Charles couldn’t help but look over his desk before he did anything else for the day, stacking some of the papers, cataloguing what he actually would need to do over the weekend. One day wouldn’t kill him, but the students needed the papers back to study from by Monday and he didn’t want to let them down. As he went along, he noticed a note had been stuck to the side of his lamp that he hadn’t left there.

His heart leapt before he even read it and he couldn’t find it in himself feel too bad about it. At least maybe he could get some closure. He yanked it off the lamp and ran his eyes over the tight, slanted script:

_Sorry to run, but I couldn’t exactly go to work in what I was wearing last night. (Unlike some people.)_

_Some more advice: if you don’t want to skip work, maybe clean up your office at least. This has to be stressful to work in. I’ll be impressed if you even manage to find this note._

_Best of luck with everything_

_-Erik_

_ps. if you ever need an open ear: (XXX)-XXX-XXXX_

Charles fell over into his desk chair, re-reading the note to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake.

He couldn’t press down the relief he felt once he was sure he hadn’t, allowing it to balloon up inside of him uncontrollably. He collapsed further into his chair, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling, not bothering to bite back his smile.

Charles knew that Erik was right, that the weight that was still inside of him and would certainly show itself again soon enough would be his to battle, and he planned to at least start trying. But he also thought that having a friend to pick him back up if he lost every once in a while in the meantime couldn’t hurt. And if someday that friend turned into something more… Well, who knew what the future would hold?

For now, he felt for the first time in a long time that he could see something on the horizon after all. The idea made him feel different, light and giddy. He thought it must be something like hope.

Charles grabbed his phone and started to get his things together to go out.

_C: Guess what I did today_

_E: Who is this?_

_C: It’s Charles. Now guess_

_E: I don’t know_

_E: Texted in class? Seeing how it’s 10:30 AM right now_

_C: I’m not in class_

_C: I called in “sick”_

_E: Jesus you could have at least told me to sit down first_

_E: You absolute mad man_

_C: I know_

_E: Well have fun on your day off while the rest of us slave away at our 9 to 5_

_C: I will_

Erik texted him back an irritated emoticon and Charles laughed, clicking his phone shut and putting it in his pocket. He glanced around one last time, trying to think if he’d forgotten anything. Once he was sure he hadn’t, he set out, stepping off into the day.

The sun was already high up in the sky. The breeze was warm and Charles could see cars rushing by back and forth on the street nearby, everyone already busy with their own lives. Charles marveled at how free he felt anyway. It wasn’t like everything was better, but at least this day could be, and, right now, that was enough for him.

Charles closed the door behind him, tested the lock, and started off down the stairs.

He felt like going to the sea.


End file.
